


A Single Cup of Tea

by notjustmom



Series: The Mentalist [7]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Backstory, Episode: s01e10 Red Brick and Ivy, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 06:13:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21369472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: My canon for his tea obsession...
Relationships: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon
Series: The Mentalist [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526000
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	A Single Cup of Tea

A single cup of tea.

It had been Sophie’s idea. She had even sent him his first electric kettle, no, she had left it on his porch with a note. The note was still in his wallet, perfectly preserved. Years ago, he had stopped pulling it out to study her perfect, round printing on the back of one of her business cards. Her handwriting was abysmal, but her printing was careful, she had taken her time to make sure he could read it, and he had wondered what had possessed her to make him such a gift, but then again, she had saved his life. 

Ritual, routine, took thought, intention, while breathing, unfortunately, did not, breathing happened, would continue to happen unless, until he decided one day to take steps… no. That was the coward’s way out, but wasn’t he a coward, at heart?

“No time is weird for a cup of tea, its always morning in some part of the world...”*

He kept the bit of card stock to remind him, how some days the only reason he would make it off the mattress was to slip on his shoes, visit the bathroom, checking his reflection to make sure he hadn’t started to fade away, then make his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. He would empty yesterday’s left over water, refill it, plug it in, and wait for that scream of a whistle - then open the cupboard to pull out the box of teabags, selecting one, then he would watch it bob in the water, down, up, down up, down up downup, four times, then let it steep for precisely two minutes, any longer it would turn bitter. So much energy, so much investment for a single cup of tea. 

“Jane?”

“Hmm?”

“Who is Sophie? I need to know.”

He nodded, then closed her office door, and turned to face her. “Fair enough. She was, my doctor, my psychiatrist -”

“But you hate psychiatrists.”

“She was a good psychiatrist. I know there is no shame in breaking down, but I was, am ashamed, still. She saved my life, gave me my life back to me, I owe her. I know it’s not in my file, took a bit of time, a lot of work to erase that part of my life. I am sorry I didn’t tell you.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Nitya Prakash


End file.
